Destiny's Inferno
by Cerulean Grace
Summary: After taking command of Camelot, Zeldris suspects he is not alone. When he discovers who is haunting him in the castle, he realizes this may be his one chance of redemption for a hurt from long ago. A sequel to Lickitysplit's "Sacred Inferno". Cover art by Vetur02.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: Thank you for reading. Lickitysplit here, and you're probably wondering what I'm doing in a fic by Cerulean Grace. Well, several months ago I published a short fic entitled Sacred Inferno, and my good friend was… unsatisfied with the ending. So after about a hundred hours of debate, she came up with a very brilliant way for the characters, the readers, and even the author to have some closure.

When I heard her idea I immediately begged her to allow me to collaborate, and to my relief she agreed. So what you have now is part one of three parts of a sort-of sequel to that fic. Cerulean Grace is extremely talented, and the ideas in this fic belong to her. Her creativity is something I've been proud to be a part of, and I hope that you all enjoy this piece.

A/N 2: Cerulean Grace here. All my ideas, and my writing, is ugly. The above is False. The convo was me crying to Beth long enough so that she indulged my demented coping mechanism, which was sequel-ing her fic. What a wonderful world, in which if you STAN a fic hard enough and become pals with the author they'll let you rub your filthy paws all over their universe. What an honor. Anyways, I love her and her writing so much, I hope you enjoy as well.

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Zeldris sat in the throne of Camelot, looking out at his empty kingdom. Disposing of the humans had been a simple task, yet completely unsatisfying. There had been thousands of unfortunate souls in the capital city, and he had easily pulled each and every one from the bodies of the humans and consumed their energies. It was easy enough, and Zeldris had had no trouble even with those that had bothered to stand up to him. With each soul, his power had grown, making it easier to take the next, then the next, then the next.

Now, he was consumed with hatred. As soon as he and the Commandments were released he had suggested to the other members of the Ten Commandments that they check Edinburgh for the possibility to recover their depleted magical energy. Instead, he had discovered that the kingdom of Edinburgh, which he had left in a seal for three thousand years, had been reduced to nothing more than a crater in the ground. What he had found was the destruction that could only be caused by an entity far more powerful than the Vampires: his brother's power.

Meliodas had shamed the demons, betrayed his race, abandoned his duty as the leader of the Ten Commandments. Abandoned his _family._ Any of those reasons would have been enough for Zeldris to hate him. But none of those caused the angry throbbing in his core quite like seeing the endless dark abyss in the alcove where he used to meet her each night, thousands of years ago.

Edinburgh was gone, not a trace of the castle or any signs of the Vampire clan that had lived there. The sheer amount of energy that was required for something like that… Zeldris clenched his hands on the arms of the throne. Only Meliodas could have done this, he was certain.

He wondered how it had happened. Did his brother know the Vampires were there? Did Meliodas go there intentionally? Zeldris doubted the Vampires would have been able to break the seal on their own. His magic was far greater than that of even Izraf, the king. Meliodas must have gone there to find them, and to exterminate them. But how would he have even known they were there? Zeldris had been so careful, making sure there was no trace of them left when he had created the seal. As far as anyone knew, he had slaughtered the entire clan.

Zeldris' thoughts turned to the spell Meliodas must have used to cause such destruction. The blast must have been immense, the heat as intense as the sun to annihilate them like that. He swallowed as he imagined what it would have been like for the Vampires. Were they aware of their own fate bearing down on them? Had Meliodas announced his intentions before he unleashed his attack? Or were they all caught by surprise with the agony of the searing heat and flames?

The truth was, Zeldris had not really expected that they would find much magic left in Edinburgh. What he had really wanted was to check the seal and see if _she_ was still there, waiting for him, and finding them all gone was a shock. Initially, he hadn't thought it would bother him as much as it did. He was angry, but a lot of things made him angry. Meliodas going missing all that time ago in the midst of the war made him angry. His careless brother Estarossa made him angry. Being sealed, not able to do _anything_ for three thousand years made him angry. But nothing had lingered as much as seeing the ruins of that castle, and that hole in the earth.

Since their release, he had managed to get a few details of what was happening in the present. His brother Meliodas was no longer the cruel, merciless commander he had reluctantly feared. His brother had turned into a joke. Perhaps he still had the same massive power and abilities of his original self, but he took no joy in war, battle, or death anymore. And Zeldris had found out why. He'd seen the girl himself, an _apostle_ , and a potentially powerful one from what he could tell. The Goddess clan had once been their greatest enemy; how Meliodas had found himself with one of them was beyond him. But there she was: blue eyes, silver hair, gentle temperament.

Zeldris wanted her dead.

He sat back in the throne, trying to decide how to take revenge in a way that would cause Meliodas the most pain. Taking her would be easy; the Sins and their companions were nearly as pathetic as the regular humans, none of their powers coming anywhere close to his own. All he had to do was go there when Meliodas was gone, or distracted, and he could simply reach out and grab her. His lip curled at the thought of the fear in her eyes, the panic his brother would feel. Would she cry at first, he wondered? Would she beg for her life?

Then he'd give Meliodas hope. Hope that she was alive and maybe they'd be together again. Zeldris could drag it out, make him wait months, years. Meliodas would need to carry on not knowing if she was alive and well or already dead. He smiled as he imagined leaving him hints, little clues to point him in one direction or another. Then, when Meliodas arrived, he would find her gone, just as Zeldris had found Edinburgh gone. If he was feeling particularly generous, perhaps he would leave something behind: a piece of clothing, a chunk of her hair maybe.

Finally, Zeldris would shatter that hope. They'd have no chance to see each other before her death. No goodbyes or finality. As he made his way through the castle, he made a list in his head of all the painful ways he'd seen someone be killed, or killed a person himself. The options were plentiful. He wanted her to suffer and he wanted Meliodas to know she had suffered.

Yes, he would make Elizabeth suffer, make her suffer like…

Zeldris paused. Make her suffer like… the Vampire clan? No. He had spent months with the clan and had found them to be a dull, bleak people. He did not care in the least about the Vampires and what they suffered. Good riddance to them all.

Shaking his head, he tried to clear his thoughts and focus on the mission at hand. He'd properly taken Camelot and its population. The supposed King of legend was nowhere to be found. He wondered if the other Commandments were as thorough as he was in completing their tasks, but doubted it.

He looked around the giant hall, filled with intricate arts and stone walls. A place that had once been bustling with life, now so silent he could hear nothing but his own breaths. It was unsettling how much it reminded him of Izraf's court. The Vampires had been as cold and soundless as as the rock that surrounded them. There had been no displays of wealth, no banquets, no celebrations or calls to war. It had felt as empty as Camelot did now.

He cursed himself. No matter how much he tried to keep his thoughts away from Edinburgh, the memories kept sneaking in, his frustration beginning to boil up under his skin again.

Finally, he gave in and allowed himself to think of her: his Gelda. Beautiful, fiery Gelda, the daughter of the Vampire king. She had been his tool of vengeance on her father that had slighted him, and a distraction from a mission that was boring and uneventful. Ever since he had seen the fate of Edinburgh, he had been trying to keep her from invading his mind, trying to keep the memories of her away. Now that the door had been cracked open, the memories began pouring into his mind, making him feel almost winded with each wave. He thought of the delicate features on her face, the smooth slope of her neck, the soft skin of her hands. Her long blonde hair that she always kept in a neat twist on her head, and the pleasure he would get from yanking it free, watching it spill over her shoulders. Zeldris could still picture the sloping curves of her hips, her tiny waist, her slender legs, the way she fit so perfectly against him and under him.

The only one of them worth something had been Gelda. But he hadn't _cared_ for her. He didn't care for anyone; caring was a weakness. She had belonged to him, nothing more. But was he willing to go through so much effort to take revenge for her? Slowly Zeldris nodded to himself. He'd simply take revenge on his weakened brother for painfully destroying what was his by doing the same. It wasn't Gelda being gone that bothered him, but the fact Meliodas was the one to kill her. Killing Elizabeth would surely end his anger on the topic.

He tried to imagine what his brother had done to her. Based on the ruins, it had been an explosion. He could imagine it now: Gelda, sitting on her rock at the alcove like she had every night waiting for him when she sought to be "alone". He thought of her the first night he'd seen her in the moonlight. Then, he imagined her screams as Meliodas set her to the explosive flames. Her flawless skin, her beautiful features, all burned away in a flash.

It was so vivid, he could nearly hear Gelda's voice.

Zeldris whirled around, his eyes narrowing as he scanned the room. He thought he had heard his name, whispered in such a familiar way it had made his stomach drop. He had always felt a thrill when she would say his name, whether she was pleading with him, her voice rising with her need, or sighing in pleasure, the sound wrapping around him and settling over his mind. He thought of the last time he had heard it, when she was begging him after he had learned of her betrayal.

His breathing increased as he thought of what happened next: his punishment for her disloyalty, for humiliating him. He remembered how he had used her body to make her feel the same, and made her beg for him. But it had backfired, somehow, and Zeldris had ended up feeling almost sickened by her shame, and had pulled her into his arms to erase the pain on her face and in her voice.

It took several deep breaths to calm his shaking and stop his blood from boiling. Zeldris had to remind himself he was thinking of this only because it was what he'd later do to Elizabeth. Gelda was gone. She wasn't sitting on the bench where he had seen her so many times. She had been in the seal, where he had put her and the rest of them.

Zeldris quickly stood and paced the room, staring at nothing but the cobblestoned ground, now entering a strategic mindset. Kidnap Elizabeth. Let his brother search. When Meliodas nearly gave up hope, he'd give him a sign that she could still be alive; then he'd rip it away. But how? Elizabeth's death needed to be similar to Gelda's, but Zeldris would do his best to make it worse. There would be no mercy. Having seen her before only allowed him to make his thoughts more vivid. He imagined her blue eyes widened with terror. He pictured her bound, only able to look on as he set the room to the flames. The fear crossing her expression as she knew this would be the end.

His only wish was the Meliodas could see without interacting with her. He didn't want to let them say goodbye, but he wished he could see Meliodas' face as he came to the realization that he had failed her completely. To see the pain that crossed his expression as he saw the woman he cared so much for, the woman he'd promised to protect, burn to ashes. For the last noises he would hear from her to be cries and screams of pain. To leave him on such a bitter, painful note that would haunt him for the rest of his eternal existence.

Zeldris slowly smiled as he imagined the sting of the fire burning her, the agonizing pain she'd suffer through before her body gave in to death. The Goddess clan had been one of their fiercest rivals and enemies; her death would bring him double the pride because of that. He wanted to see the life fade from her eyes, and as her soul departed for the afterlife, he'd consume it himself.

But as he imagined the scorch of her skin and features, the silver haired girl he'd briefly seen kept switching in his mind. For one moment, he relished in Elizabeth's suffering; in the next, he was seeing Gelda, her eyes as hurt and filled with tears as the last night he'd seen her before sealing her away. He imagined her _Sacred Inferno_ spreading from the cups of her hands, spreading up along her arms and slowly burning her in its path. He could hear her crying out for him as the fire of Meliodas' attack consumed her.

 _Zeldris_ … There it was again, like a whisper against his skin, causing him to jump and startling him from his dark thoughts. Again he scanned the room, peering into the shadows for anyone who might be hiding there.

He leaned his palms against a windowsill, looking out at the broken and deserted land. Zeldris took several deep breaths, trying to get a hold of himself. There was no one there. No one was calling his name, least of all Gelda. Gelda was dead.

oooo

Night had arrived, and Zeldris made his way to the grand chambers of the king. He was nervous and restless, yet incredibly tired at the same time. He had kept hearing whispers throughout the afternoon, and conducted a complete search of the castle, from the highest turrets to the dungeons far below the surface. There was nothing there-of _course_ there was nothing there-but he had wanted to make sure. There were other odd feelings too; a shadow that seemed to move when he did not look, a breeze on his neck or arms or cheek when there was no wind.

His weariness made him agitated, and he banged through the door of the bedroom. There was a huge four-poster bed in the center, with rich furniture and beautiful paintings decorating the room. Two doors opened to a balcony, and Zeldris wrenched them open, finding the air in the room to be choking. Quickly he undressed and climbed into the bed, unable to enjoy the richness of the fabrics and the softness of the pillows in his keyed-up state.

Zeldris closed his eyes, and to his annoyance she appeared again. He had often laid like this on her bed, stretched out on his back, while she moved over him. As he thought of her now, he began to relax, so he allowed the fantasy to form in his mind: her hands gliding over his chest, her lips dusting on his cheek, her legs entwining around his.

Since the image of Gelda didn't seem to be dissipating any time soon, he decided to give in and think about her. It was only in a quiet moment like this, when he was completely alone, that he would even dare to imagine her with him again; that he would think about her beauty, and her spirit, and the way she was enchanting and frustrating all at the same time. After he had left her in the seal, there was enough to distract him from thinking about her. A war to complete, Meliodas being missing, his new and long-awaited appointment to the Ten Commandments. Between her sealing and his, he had a constant distraction; now, he had all the time in the world to think.

And now that he had the moment, she was overwhelming him in the same way she did alive. He had thought that when his mission was over in Edinburgh and he left, thoughts of her would stay behind in the cold, stone walls. How wrong he'd been.

He sighed, staring up at the ceiling, his mind rapidly sorting through every aspect of her, the strange churning of his feelings that he had not experienced since his time with Gelda. The pride in her eyes as he helped her master her power, and the night he had seen her summon that flame for the first time. The way she had rushed to him in joy and kissed him for the first time, surprising him in a way he had never experienced. The way his feelings and attraction for her had quickly spiralled from there. The satisfaction of protecting her when the Holy Knights had attacked Edinburgh, and the unfamiliar fear for someone else when he had left her alone, surrounded by her own kind, who would kill her if their secrets were discovered.

He closed his eyes, inhaling deeply through his nose. When he first put the pieces together about her death he was angry, but now he didn't know how he felt; he just knew the bedroom around him felt larger and emptier than any he'd been in before.

A soft sigh blew through the air, the breath tickling his cheek as his eyes snapped open again, immediately turning towards the sensation. Zeldris was well aware that his actions throughout the day were paranoid at the least, but he _knew_ something was following him through the castle. Throughout their time together, he had become intimately familiar with every sound and feeling associated with Gelda, and if it had not sounded so crazy, he could have sworn it was her. Sitting up and resting on one elbow, he reached his hand where he had heard the sound come from, but there was nothing but air.

His eyes darted around the room one last time before Zeldris laid back down again. Instead of soothing him, the memories of Gelda were making him jumpy, his stomach turning the more he thought of her. Each time he would picture her beautiful face, her graceful body that fit with his perfectly, he would also see himself pinning her under him and using her for himself. Every time he imagined hearing her voice or one of her rare soft laughs, he would also hear her crying as he had called her every name he could think of. And as he thought of being inside her again, of taking what was _his_ again, he could not help but ask himself, would she want him to, this time?

Zeldris swallowed thickly, beads of sweat breaking out on his forehead, and he cursed himself for being so ridiculous. He sounded like… a complete fool. But as much as it pained him to admit it, he wished he could have another day, another kiss, even another moment, but whether it would be to find out for himself or to cut this hold she had on him once and for all, he did not know.

Another breeze floated in the room, this time brushing on his lips, and he could almost, _almost_ , imagine it was her. He could feel her warm mouth on his, her soft hands against his chest, her hair falling over the side of his face. Zeldris froze, not wanting to disturb the sensation. Amazingly, the feeling continued, and his hands clenched at his sides as he imagined reaching up and grabbing hold of her. He tilted his chin up, just slightly, and to his astonishment, the feathered air against his skin adjusted.

He could recall spending so many nights like this, laying back on Gelda's bed as she moved over him, her mouth feathering kisses over his face. He had never thought he would be one to like such gentle affection, but he had grown to enjoy the soft touch of her lips when he would first pull her into the bed with him. Even when he had her pinned beneath him, she would lift her face to his and brush her lips over him, as if it was her signature on his skin.

His lips would touch her skin too, but mostly to taste. He loved the sight of her mouth after sucking on her lips, biting and punishing. The way his tongue would explore her mouth, her neck, her chest… by the end of their time together, there was not an inch of her that he had not sampled for himself. She would shiver beneath him as he knew each and every way she enjoyed being touched, where to kiss, where to hold her tightly, where to caress. Even after all this time, the thousands of years, as Zeldris laid there, he could remember the feel and taste of her; he could recall the sounds that she made and the way she would move against him. She truly had become his; he had complete control over her body in those moments.

But Zeldris also recalled that she had control over his as well, as much as he hated to admit it. His own hands unclenched from his sides and moved across the bedsheets as he pictured her gentle touch on him. He chuckled as he thought about the first time he had allowed her to explore his body, how hesitant she had been as she traced her hands over him, her fingers grazing the dips in his muscles. Zeldris had concentrated on staying perfectly still, watching her as her expression changed from curiosity to lust, until finally her hands had moved down his body. Now, in this bed, his own body was responding just the way it had that night, and he was stunned and unnerved by how just the _memory_ of her has him straining with his need.

His heart began to beat faster as the memories of Gelda started to surface, one after another. Besides the taste of her body was the pure vision of it: silky skin and curves in all the best places. When she had been beneath him, bare, flushed, and gasping… he couldn't picture a more alluring sight. Zeldris barely noticed as his hand began to move, trying to ease the throbbing that had begun in his body. He could see her lips, her slender legs, the flare of her hips and the curve of her breasts and the dip of her navel on her smooth stomach, and his body positively ached for her.

Her body, her _being_ , had completely overwhelmed him. The first time he'd taken her, he'd thought he could move on immediately afterwards. That his desire would be satiated. But the more he'd had her, the more he'd wanted her. He wanted her to deluge his senses again; to hear her moaning beneath him, to taste her heat, to see her face twisted in pleasure. His hands moved steadily against his body as the desire thrummed inside his head. To have Gelda again; to feel her over him and beneath him and around him… the craving for her was becoming an all-consuming hunger as he allowed himself, for the first time in centuries upon centuries, to really, truly _remember_.

He remembered one of the rare occasions he had allowed her control over him. As much as he enjoyed the power of claiming her, it was an occasional treat he would allow them both, and he would indulge Gelda, permitting her to use his body for her own pleasure. He'd been laid down on her bed in the middle of the night, much like right now, and she'd hovered over him, nervously biting on her lip. She'd slowly sunk her head against his torso, planting a series of signature feather kisses across his bare chest. Her mouth had slowly become more intense, nipping at his skin as she'd sunk lower down his body, his blood following her path downwards. Her lovely mouth had found its away around him, his hardness teased by the warmth of her mouth and tongue. Remembering that moment, Zeldris now groaned out loud as he thrust his hips forward, just like he had that night, as he had struggled to maintain control of his body even as she had teased him into new heights of pleasure.

He skipped ahead in his memory to when she'd been on top of him, straddling him. One of her smooth hands grasped his hip for balance, the other his length, as she slowly tried to lower herself. In vivid detail, he recalled the way her slick heat had teased his tip as her body began to swallow him. How her body had twitched and clenched around him, the moan she'd made as he'd teased her with his fingers. Both of her hands had pressed against his chest and shoulders, her nails digging into him: a pain that had only brought him more pleasure. She had ground her hips in circles around him, and he had only needed to lay back, watch, and feel her. His hands had greedily explored her breasts, ran over her sides and hips. His eyes feasted upon her open mouth, her hardened nipples, the sight of her wetness moving up and down his length.

Zeldris moved his hand, mimicking the movements that were clear in his mind, and he ground out her name in a harsh whisper as he felt his body rushing headfirst towards the release he craved. " _Gelda_ ," he said, the whisper soft but biting. But then the feeling of being watched returned, the sensation that someone or something was there, and his eyes flew open, landing on a figure standing in the middle of his room.

Even his wildest imagination would not have dreamt a sight as incredible as his Gelda standing before him: her eyes wide, brimmed with tears and filled with longing; her hands delicately placed, one against her neck, the other over her mouth; her golden hair pulled back into an intricate braid over her shoulder; the thin dress that seemed to cinch her waist and accentuate every curve. He gasped at the sudden sight of her, and even though he recognized his own madness, knowing that her standing there was impossible, he was moving up, out of the bed, and towards her in an instant. She was only a figure of his imagination; for all Zeldris could tell, he was asleep and dreaming. But none of that mattered, because he wanted her so badly in that moment.

He had no time to marvel at her, more beautiful than even in his previous fantasy, as he grabbed her and pressed her back, knocking them both into the furniture. His hands roamed her body, pulling her dress down her shoulders and he leaned in to bite her, shuddering as the taste was even more exquisite than he had remembered. Gelda cried out, the sound swirling in his mind, his hands moving on their own and pulling her dress up.

The lunacy of this moment, the utter _madness_ of her being here, was pushed away as he continued to taste her shoulders, her neck, the line of her jaw. Zeldris did not care why this vision was so vivid, or what it could mean. All he cared about was the feel of her trembling thighs as his hands gripped her body, pushing them back and apart as he ground himself against her.

" _Zeldris_ …" she whispered, the sound of his name sending a chill down his spine, and he bit her again, his hand now moving roughly between her legs. He knew he could wake up at any moment, and he was determined to take what he could while this dream continued. His fingers delved inside her body, and he felt her palms pushing against his shoulders, her back arching up, and Zeldris dipped his face down to kiss her breasts over the fabric of her dress as he worked his hand against her center. The feel of her becoming hot and wet against his hand, and the sensation of the fabric straining against her body was so incredibly _real_ that he almost faltered. _What is happening to me?_ he wondered briefly. Was this an enchantment of some kind? Had he lost his mind? Hallucinating? Or was this simply the most vivid dream he had ever experienced?

Then Gelda's legs slipped around his waist, gripping his hips and pulling him against her, and suddenly Zeldris was lost. All thought and doubt disappeared as he thrust himself forward, all of his questions disappearing as he entered her scorching body. Frantically he began to move, thrusting hard and fast inside of her, one hand wrapping through the pleats in her hair and tugging fiercely, the other gripping one of her thighs and forcing it up, opening her body for him. Zeldris felt her hands clutching at his neck and his back, digging in until it hurt, but it only fueled him further as her body swallowed his again and again.

Then it was over, the few moments of absolute bliss crashing into its conclusion as his body jerked almost violently, and Zeldris cried out as he emptied himself inside her. The thudding of his blood roared inside his head as he came down from his climax, and he leaned forward, pressing against the furniture, reaching out to steady himself as his limbs began to shake.

He expected the vision of her to be gone. He thought that as his senses returned, he would snap out of this madness and see that she was not there after all; that his hallucination had been just that, a trick his tired and agitated mind had played on him. Zeldris reached out to grip the table, expecting to feel the smooth wood that would bring him back. But instead, she was _still_ there, her soft body still wrapped around his, and as he opened his eyes, he could feel her breath against his forehead as she panted ragged breaths.

Zeldris jerked backwards, shocked, and as he slipped from her body, he realized she was real. Gelda was before him, _his Gelda_ , panting and flushed and bracing herself against the furniture as she lowered her unsteady legs to the floor. Then her eyes met his, and he could not think of anything else but that she was _real_.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Lickitysplit here again, back for our second installment of our trilogy. Fun fact about this story: Cerulean Grace and I started it about nine months ago. It's certainly been a labor of love this entire time as we hammered out every little detail. But it has also been an absolute joy to put this together with my incredibly talented friend. Almost everything you will read in this chapter started as her brain child, and I recall falling over multiple times as she connected dots that I didn't even see-and I wrote Sacred Inferno! Please give her lots of love and feedback because she deserves it.

 **A/N 2:** Cerulean Grace here! I don't deserve nearly that much credit, and Lickitysplit really talks up my creativity as if I didn't write a fanfiction based on her fanfiction! But yes, it is a child of love and, for my depressed ass that was destroyed via _Sacred Inferno_ , grieving! Thanks for all your feedback last chapter, I hope you will all honor us with your words and feedback again for this Part 2!

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As the room slowed down from its previous spinning, Gelda could hardly collect her thoughts. Everything had gone so fast.

Death had felt no different than life. She was in silence and darkness, drifting from one day to the next, year after year. She could have chosen to move on, and go to the land of the dead for eternity. But what was the point? At first she had dared to hope that she would see him there. That somehow he would die himself, and they could be together after, but that was not be, either. Being dead was as stark as being in the seal. It was as stark as her life in Edinburgh, before Zeldris. Without him, there had been no point in going on in life. Why should her death be any different?

But then she had felt the pulling, the pressure to go and return to Britannia, and against her own will she had awoken inside this bedroom, in this castle so different from her own home. She truly had nothing to fear, and Gelda _knew_ that, but she could not help the way dread had licked up her spine as she stepped into the shadows of this unknown place. She had looked around, her arms slipping around herself as all of her senses returned, momentarily overwhelmed with being able to see and hear and smell so clearly… and that is when she caught sight of Zeldris, laying in the bed just steps away.

How many minutes had passed since she had been summoned there, listening with anticipation and joy as Zeldris had whispered her name? Since she noticed he was having such thoughts about her and lost the ability to breathe? He was supposed to be gone, sealed away like she was, maybe even dead. Gelda had watched him for a long moment, and he did not feel her presence. She was frozen, not knowing what to do, wondering if this was another punishment for her weakness and her treachery, if she was brought to this place to simply watch him and never have the chance to make right any of the things she had done.

But when she heard her name on his lips, she had gasped, and he saw her. Then he had been before her in a flash, touching her, inside her. It was brutal and bruising and exactly what she expected from him, what she wanted and needed and deserved.

Now, as she stared at him, both of them panting and flushed, she wondered how exactly she had even gotten here.

She had been dead. Was she _still_ dead? Yes, she must be. Years ago-she guessed; time no longer meant anything to her-she had asked Meliodas, a familiar face in a world thousands of years after the time she knew, to end her. An eternity sealed away, purposeless, had drained her energy. Before meeting Zeldris, her only purpose had been to exist quietly and then bear a son to be King of Edinburgh. But after being released from the seal, knowing Zeldris was dead and her clan was left to its demise, she had found no reason to live.

So she had died. And she had made peace with that. Or at least, she thought she had. So why was she here? And how was _he_?

She focused her eyes and thoughts back to the reality in front of her, trying to read Zeldris' expression. His eyes were wide, and he was staring at her face so hard that she felt the blood rush into her cheeks.

"Zeldris..." she tried to begin, not knowing what to ask. She gripped the table he had pressed her against, still unsure of trusting her shaking limbs.

He shivered slightly, inhaling through his teeth. "How did you escape?"

"Escape?" she blinked, thrown off by the question. "Escape what?"

"Escape-" He started towards her, then pulled up short, his eyes roaming up and down her form, seeming to check that she was indeed real. She didn't blame him; she wasn't sure either. "Escape Edinburgh!"

"I- I didn't?"

His brows drew together in confusion. "If you didn't, then how-" Suddenly Zeldris scowled, looking down with sudden realization. "Melascula."

Gelda just stared at him, having no idea who or what Melascula was, or what it had to do with her. If she were honest with herself, she was still absorbing the sight of him. For such a long time, she thought the thought of him walking away that night so long ago would be the last time she saw him. Now, here he was, speaking to her, touching her, and it was all so surreal that her mind barely had time to catch up. "I don't understand? Melascula? What happened to me?" All his words were finally hitting her at once, and Gelda struggled to keep her calm demeanor, and to keep herself from launching herself at him, to beg his forgiveness.

"You were," he paused, gritting his teeth, " _dead_ , but you're revived now. At least temporarily. Melascula is a demon with a specific power; I'm familiar with it because I've been working with her for a while, but even I don't completely understand it. Her magic brings back the dead, and is fueled by feelings of regret."

"I don't-" She tried to recall her past few minutes of thoughts, testing for anything that was particularly different than usual, "I don't have any regrets." As soon as the words left her, her heart dropped. That, of course, had been a lie.

"Gelda." He was focused on her again now, and slowly he stalked towards her, his eyes boring into hers. "If you're back it's for a reason. What do you think that reason is?"

She felt her mouth gaping, at a loss for words. A reason? A purpose? Her death hadn't been satisfying, but it was what she wanted at the time; she didn't know what regrets would have brought her back to life just to be fulfilled…

 _Lies_ , she thought, pushing it away angrily, and she stepped towards him. She did not want to go back to the pain of their last time together, when he had hurt her so terribly, suspecting she had done the same to him. The cruelty in his voice and the savagery in the way he had treated her in their final hours together had left an aching memory that she refused to feel again.

"I-I don't-" she said, hating the way she could not even think straight around him. Zeldris reached her then, and she expected him to grab her and squeeze her as he had so many times.

Instead, he stood silently gazing at her, his eyes trained on hers, their bodies only a breadth away from touching. His face was unreadable, and Gelda kept her own in the calm expression she had practiced for hundreds of years. She watched his lips part as his eyes moved downward, and he murmured softly, almost to himself, "Is it your regret, or mine?"

Gelda shivered, and then his arms went around her, pulling her against him. She did not dare to move or to speak, remembering that the one and only time he had embraced her like this was moments before he had unleashed his wrath on her. He buried his face in her hair, pressing his forehead and his mouth against the side of her face, and Gelda noticed his hold was firm, and possessive, but not laced with his usual callousness. The seconds ticked by as he held her, breathing in and out against her, and Gelda struggled to keep her own breath even and steady before she foolishly dared to believe he was feeling anything but contempt for her.

"Gelda," Zeldris whispered, his lips moving against her cheek. She shivered again and tentatively brought her hands to his shoulders. This had been what she'd wanted: his affection, in whatever limited way he showed it. So why was she so reluctant to give in? All of her muscles were tensed, ready for him to lash out in a moment's notice.

Wasn't he angry at her? Didn't he believe she had betrayed him, his trust, the sole mission he'd given her? She hadn't meant to. He had told her to report to him all information she had, and for the longest time, she had done so without fail. But when her father's betrayal came to light, when Izraf had directly told her Zeldris would die by his hand, she hadn't wanted to think about it. The months with Zeldris had been a blissful change; he had given her more purpose in their weeks together than all the years without him combined. Putting an end to their limited time together, a moment she had dreaded since he had first spoken to her, was too painful.

But now, his lips were brushing against her jawline, her arms around his shoulders, and she thought she may have been dreaming. Not wanting to bring up his past anger in fear it would break this moment she had craved for so long, she stood still and alert.

His fingers weaved into her hair gently, his arm wrapping around her waist and pulling her close. Her face pressed against the side of his neck and she took in a breath, trying to flood herself in his warmth.

"I had gone back," he quietly confessed, her mind's entire focus going back to his soft voice, "to see if you were there."

For a moment her breathing stopped. In the seal, in the raw, emotional first days, she clung to the hope he would turn back around. That he would need her as much as he needed him, undo the seal, take her away. Years had gone by with that hope, and it had still lingered until the very end, even when she had known had unrealistic it was.

Keeping her guard up, she asked the question that had immediately rushed to her mind, "What would you have done, if I was?"

She felt him freeze around her, his face still buried in her hair, moments passing by without a word. Again, she felt herself tense, but this time with an growing anger she had been trying to smother inside herself. If he had wanted to come for her now, why not then? What had changed after all this time? His brother still lived now just as he had then; he could have easily eliminated any member of her clan who opposed without a single objection from her. So why let the years slip by? Did it legitimately take something as immense as her _death_ to make him show any ounce of affection?

As she pondered her grievances, he finally moved, his hand pulling her chin from its place pressed against his chest to look up at him. The touch was almost tender, she thought to herself. She wanted to search his eyes for the answers she craved, to try to understand the enigma that was his mind and his feelings towards her. But his eyes were closed, and hers were left open as his lips pressed against hers.

This kiss lacked the desperation from before. It was slow, his mouth perfectly still on hers as he breathed in before slanting to the side. She finally allowed her eyes to close, trying to clear her head. Gelda wanted answers, but her time with Zeldris had taught her to prepare for any time together to be their last. So she gave into the kiss, slowly sliding her arms around his neck, remembering how her hands felt in his hair. She tried to memorize the feel of his lips, the taste of his mouth, and lock the sensation inside her.

Instantly, it was so familiar, and every other kiss he had given her came flooding back. Every bite, every caress, every pull of her hair, every thrust of his hips. The whispered words in the hallways and the encouraging commands in the alcove. The demands and the teasing and the hot tears that she always felt like she was a moment from spilling. It all filled her mind suddenly, and her initial hesitation faded away as she fell into the feel of his mouth and his hands, more natural than breathing.

It may just have been her wish, but she imagined he was doing the same. The hand tilting her chin slid slowly down her neck, the fingertips dusting over her skin. The kiss was firm, but still chaste, and Gelda found herself pressing against him. He made a soft noise and his hand slid over her shoulder until his fingers now gripped the back of her neck, digging into the nape of her hair. Gelda hesitated, shivering at the familiar harshness of his touch. His fingers squeezed her for a moment before relaxing, brushing her skin again.

The hand on her back slid upwards, not down as she had expected, and he kneaded the muscles in her back before pressing her hips against his. Gelda gave a little sigh, parting her lips for him, but instead of forcing his tongue into her mouth, he nibbled lightly on her bottom lip. A thrill went through her with this new, gentler Zeldris, unable to predict his movements. Not once in their time together had he held her like this, or kissed her like this.

Then he suddenly lifted her, hiking her easily up against him and walking her the few steps backwards to the bed. He continued to skim his lips on hers as he lowered her down slowly. Gelda sank back against the mattress, her hands sliding over his bare shoulders, even as his remained controlled against her sides. Then he moved his hands up and down unhurriedly along the shape of her body, his eyes remaining steady on hers as his palms brushed beneath her breasts.

"Zeldris?" she murmured, bringing her hands to the sides of his face. She caressed him slowly with her thumbs tracing his cheekbones. It was something she had tried a handful of times in the past, when she had craved a tender moment, usually ending when he would snap at her for what he considered weakness. He closed his eyes, and to her surprise he actually leaned into her touch, pressing his cheek to her palm. "I just can't believe you are actually here," he whispered.

"I'm here," she whispered back, and then his face was moving down again, capturing her mouth with his with a surprising gentleness. Zeldris slid his lips against hers softly, slowly, deliberately teasing her. Gelda breathed his name again, and his hands, which had stilled on the outsides of her breasts, sunk down to travel the length of her body.

Slipping under the hem of her dress, his fingertips grazed her skin as he traced over her calves, pushing the bottom up to expose her legs. He sat up, his eyes travelling the length of her, finally settling on the torn fabric he had carelessly pulled apart in his frenzied state just minutes before. Gelda saw something she couldn't identify in his expression- was it _regret_? Her chest heaved with a mixture of conflicting emotion at the look in his eyes, and embarrassment at him seeing her in this disheveled state.

But then he was carefully pulling off her skirt, undoing the buttons, sliding the fabric from her hips and laying it to the side. Gelda watched in confusion and awe; Zeldris never showed any care towards her things before. Then his hands went to the buttons that closed her shirt, his fingers grazing her stomach and breasts as he opened them one by one. He pressed his mouth to her shoulder, kissing her lightly as he peeled the fabric down her arms, one at a time, leaving a kiss on the inside of her elbows, the pulse points on her wrists.

Gelda trembled, now in just a thin slip covering her, both from the sudden chill and the disquieting care he was showing her. It was unnerving the way his hands moved gently on her skin, instead of grabbing her up; how his mouth and tongue worked teasingly down her body, over the fabric, instead of biting and sucking on her most sensitive parts. "Zeldris?" she breathed shakily, but then he was spreading her legs- not yanking them apart- and his mouth moved along her hip bone.

"Zeldris," she said again, her voice wavering even as she tried to sound firm. "What are you…?" Her voice trailed off as his intentions became clear, his mouth opening to kiss the top of her mound. His breath was hot against her skin, making her gasp, and then his tongue was sliding slowly, deliciously, down her slit.

Without thinking her hand went to his hair, weaving through the thick strands, her eyes closing as he slowly lapped at her folds. Gelda drew her legs up and back, parting for him. She felt his hands on her thighs, massaging her gently, and his mouth kept up the incredible sensations, sliding in and out of her with a slow, steady rhythm. This was _just right_ , just how she had wanted him, caring and attentive instead of selfish and cruel.

But as he steadily coaxed her body to new heights, her heart would not let go of its stranglehold in her chest. Except for their last time together, he hadn't been cruel with her, not really; it wasn't fair of her to think this way. Zeldris was rough, and sometimes cold, but he did care for her, in his own way. He had protected her and helped her and showed her a passion that she did not know existed. She moaned as his tongue dragged over her, tightening her grip in his hair, trying to pull him up on top of her. Instead, he kissed her body deeply, and without warning Gelda hit her peak, crying out as her thighs shook in his hands and her hips moved against him involuntarily.

Pleasure pulsed through her mind and her body, and Zeldris dragged out the waves as long as she could stand it. Then he moved up her body, smoothing down her slip as he wrapped his arms around her. "I love those sounds you make," he said, trailing his mouth along her neck before capturing her mouth with his.

They laid there for several minutes, kissing slowly, unhurried. Gelda felt weak, drained, and sighed against his lips when he finally pulled back. "You're really here," he said. Gelda nodded, her hand tentatively sliding along the arm draped over her stomach. "You are mine," he whispered, the hands on her back flexing, the words causing her heart to jump.

He continued kissing her, his hands moving leisurely over her, until Gelda felt like she could think again. "Zeldris," she said softly, "why are you here? How are you here, after all this time?"

His mouth hesitated against her collarbone before continuing to trail along her skin. "The seal placed on the demons was opened, and the Ten Commandments were able to slip through." She nodded, and was about to tell him about how the seal on her own clan had been shattered, but he continued, "We have a mission to conquer Britannia. Once we have it in our hold, then we can release the others." Zeldris' mouth continued moving as he murmured, "But that isn't all I plan on doing here. Soon, I'll get back Meliodas for what he did."

"Meliodas?"

He stopped his mouth and his hands. The change in him was instantaneous, and Gelda would have recoiled if he hadn't gripped her so tightly. "What's wrong?" she asked.

He was moving away from her, up out of the bed in a moment, and he paced to the window, looking out and scanning the horizon, as if looking for something. "Not the one you once knew," he said, the soldier part of him returning to his voice and his posture. "He's become pathetic now. Just a weak shell of what he used to be," the anger was flowing out of him now. Gelda had known Zeldris wasn't fond of his brother, but the respect that was once there seemed to have evaporated. "He's in _love_ ," Zeldris spat out, disgusted.

Gelda slid up to a sitting position and looked down at her folded hands, wondering if love truly repulsed Zeldris so much. It made bringing up her feelings, or even understanding them, so much more difficult. If she confessed she loved him, if she loved him at all, would he think it was a weakness as well? That _she_ was a weakness? Every time she thought that maybe, just maybe, he reciprocated her feelings, he would say something like that. Gelda wondered if it wasn't a matter of Zeldris not loving her; she wondered if he could ever love, at all.

"What will you do to him?" she softly asked. Gelda didn't know much about Meliodas before the day of her death. The demon's name had been mentioned a few times by her father in reference to their plans during the war, and she had seen him briefly the day she had met Zeldris. The impression she had gotten seemed merciless and strong willed. However, after she had met him a few years ago, his temperament seemed to change completely. He had been understanding and comforting, and had done her a mercy.

But if Zeldris wanted to destroy his brother, she would not stop him. She would accept his choice without hesitation.

"To him? Nothing, at first. It's Elizabeth I'm after."

"Elizabeth? The girl he loves?"

He slowly nodded. "She's obviously a weak point to him, and watching her suffer will do more damage to him than any physical pain I could inflict onto him directly. I can fight him later, and destroy him," all his words came out seriously, a strategy, "but first, her."

Gelda pursed her lips, nodding in return. Zeldris was a demon, part of an army, merciless. She knew this, accepted that it was who he was, and still felt the same for him nonetheless. Yet cruelty for cruelty's sake was something she had seen many times, but never understood. "But, why go through such lengths to hurt Meliodas?" Gelda questioned out loud. "If the girl isn't a threat to you, why bother? Why not just finish it quickly?"

Zeldris gave her an annoyed look, as if the answer should have been obvious. "Because, he _killed_ what's _mine_. Now I'm going to destroy what is his."

Gelda froze, her eyes widening. How would Zeldris know about Meliodas killing her? Did they speak to each other about it? No… that seemed unlike them.

Then the realization hit her. Obviously, he didn't know the full story, that she had _asked_ Meliodas to kill her.

The moments leading up to her death replayed in her mind: how Gelda had destroyed Ren using _Sacred Inferno_ , then explaining how Zeldris had been sent to execute them. She had faltered in the story at that point, but Meliodas was able to guess what had happened next. Gelda had been ashamed of her emotions then, afraid of what Meliodas would say… but as she listened to Zeldris lay out his plans to destroy his brother, she could only picture the sadness on his face when she told him she wanted to die.

 _I wanted to die then._ The truth stung, but even as she realized now what a mistake she had made, Gelda remembers the utter misery she had felt being out of the seal. She had returned to the same tedious, torturous life under her father's iron rule, listening to the Vampires bluster about their superiority over the humans, and considered for a moment allowing Zeldris to continue to believe she had been murdered. She didn't want to tell him. She truly didn't. A part of her was touched to know he had even cared about her death, but that part was now overshadowed by the part of her that worried about his reaction upon her revealing that her death wasn't the brutal murder he suspected.

"Zeldris…" she tried to begin, keeping her voice soothing, "I won't stop you from killing Meliodas, but don't do it for me."

"It isn't _for_ you," he stated, looking away with chagrin.

"Even so."

"Gelda," he stated slowly, as if she was slow and unable to comprehend, "Meliodas _murdered_ you. Maybe you haven't seen Edinburgh lately, but I have. And do you know what I saw? A giant _hole_ in the _dirt_ where your body used to be."

She flinched at the harshness in his voice, which was growing louder and more agitated with every emphasis. The cold way he stated the reality of the situation. Death was an unclear memory for her, but that must be because Meliodas made it quick.

"Zeldris, I know you're angry. I know I'm yours. But I thought you were dead. Or sealed. Either way, gone forever."

"What does that have to do with anything?" the anger in his voice had slipped away, his eyebrows pulling down in genuine confusion. With the wrath out of his voice, Gelda almost wasn't afraid.

"Meliodas killed me," she took a deep breath, pausing before looking into his eyes. She begged her voice to be strong. "Because I asked him to."

His expression was blank, unblinking. It was as if he wasn't seeing her at all, his look so distant; as if he was watching the event happen in his head. Finally, the fire returned to his eyes, a slow burn that suffocated her.

"You asked Meliodas," he softly stated, his voice low and dangerous, giving Gelda much more unease than his yelling, "to die by his hand?"

"No, you're twisting it, I didn't want _him_ to kill me, specifically, I just," she faltered yet again, unable to explain her thoughts in the moment as well as she wanted, "I knew he would."

"Of course he would!" he hissed, "you were his enemy!"

"It wasn't like that, I just-"

"You _asked_ him to kill you? You broke out out of a seal after thousands of years and your immediate thought was to die?!" He was up, pacing, his voice loud and harsh, and Gelda could only follow him with her eyes, her hands wringing in her lap.

There was nothing she could say. If there was any lesson she had learned from her father through experience, it was that quietly waiting out the wrath was better than arguing with it. She kept her face passive and calm, an expression she had mastered from her youth.

"I sealed you. I sealed you for thousands of years and kept you alive, and the second you get out you die."

She felt a bit of anger creeping up at her as she took a deep breath, stilling her emotions. Keeping her heart calm, she tried to convince herself that anger would get her nowhere. Fighting him would get her nowhere.

Suddenly, he was done pacing, in her face, hands on either side of her hips. "Tell me, Gelda," his voice was like a blade, "why did I bother sealing you, bother keeping you alive, for you to just throw it away."

The anger crept out of her then, emanating off him, waking her. "You shouldn't have sealed me," she whispered.

"What?"

"You _shouldn't_ have sealed me. You were wrong. _Sealing me_ was wrong."

He leaned his face a few inches back; too far to be intimate, but close enough that she could feel his blood boil. "I was supposed to kill you, Gelda. And if I didn't, someone else, a lot less _merciful,_ would have."

"You should have killed me," she levelled her voice, keeping it even as she said the words she had wanted to say for thousands of years, frustrations she had lingered on from the day she left to the day she died.

"Gelda-" his voice held a dark warning.

"You should have-" her voice broke in her frustration, feeling the heat creep under her skin, her hands trembling. Her heart felt like a bottle prepared to burst, years of pent of explanations and regrets that she'd never gotten to confess. Now that he was here, in front of her, she felt a million emotions she had buried away rise to the forefront of her mind. "You left me there with _nothing._ You knew about that place. You knew what my people- what my _father-_ "

"It was your home!" he burst, stepping away from her, "it was your home long before I arrived there! I protected you, I protected your _worthless clan!_ You could have stayed locked in your DAMNED castle just like you always were!"

"I didn't want that life, Zeldris! Do you know how tiring it was, not having meaning?" And it had been. She had only realized how tired she was of her life, the obedient and silent daughter of the king. A submissive slave to her father's will. Even her very species, cold and droll, surviving on blood, had began to disgust her. Until Zeldris had come, the endless days of surviving and submitting were all she had known. But once she had known him, how was she supposed to return to the way things were before?

"You left me there," her voice rose, anger and frustration and other feeling she couldn't begin to place flooding out, "with nothing. You came and you made me yours and you gave my meaningless existence a purpose and you _left me_."

"I did what I had to do! Less than what I was commanded to do! Less than what my brother or the other commandments would have done!" he yelled, frustrated. "Your father committed treason! They would have made your death a painful one for such a betrayal."

"I-I just-" she faltered. She had accepted she would die, thought of the ways. But as much as she convinced herself that she was at peace with her death, she knew she had not wanted her life to end at such a point. She had craved an escape, a life she had stayed up imagining but had no idea how to secure.

"So what did you expect me to do, Gelda?!" His body was shaking, his dark eyes filled with annoyance and animosity, fists clenched at his sides. It was the anger he directed towards her on their last day together. Seeing it suddenly made her remember in vivid detail, and her own anger was drained; she didn't want to fight with him, did not want to see him like this. She had simply wanted to be with him, and had foolishly thought that they could be, somehow.

"I wanted you to take me with you," she confessed, tears pricking her eyes. How many nights had she dreamed of the possibility? Thought of the endless possible ways? Imagined a better world in which life was easier?

Every time tears formed in her eyes, she rapidly regretted it. He never showed compassion, never comforted her. Her tears only angered him further. Anger at her or himself, she didn't know.

"Gelda," As his gaze lingered on her watering eyes, his voice was back to a normal volume, more exasperated than angry, "I couldn't."

"Why!?" she demanded, her voice a soft sob. She loathed herself like this: flushed skin, watering eyes, a voice that faltered and weeped. She sounded weak, and they both hated weakness.

"Why don't you listen!? We would have been killed, Gelda! Do you even know who serves under the Demon King?" He hesitated in his agitation as he recalled a specific threat, but instead gave the generic answer, "Warriors many times as strong as your clan was. You were a _vassal_ to something a million times the size and strength."

Eyes closed, her face fell into her hands, elbows on her knees. She didn't have an explanation for him, she just knew what she had wanted at the time. Part of her mind had been permanently dedicated to searching through the endless possibilities. She knew there had to have been a way, and was frustrated she never had come up with the answer. Why couldn't he ever show her the slightest bit of compassion? Was it too much to believe maybe he had wanted her with him as well? She took a few deep breaths, trying to calm herself, but thoughts were racing through her head and all she felt was agitation, regret, and a special anger focused on herself in this moment for looking so powerless.

Zeldris's face was a scowl, arms folded as he watched her, fingers clenching. Gelda nearly regretted not just going along with what he said, savoring his affectionate moments. But she couldn't deceive him forever; last time she had avoided the ugly truth regarding her clan's betrayal, he had shown her a cruelness and wrath she'd never seen before.

Once she thought about his cruelness, her thoughts couldn't stop. She remembered the way he'd tricked her into thinking he'd be gentle, the way he'd looked at her with cold disgust, the way he never even bothered to ask for an explanation. The assumptions he'd made. The way he'd called her _weak._ There was so much anger. All she wanted to do was yell and yell at him until her voice gave out, and the worst part was she knew he just wouldn't care. That he didn't see his wrongs.

She met his gaze now, his angry scowl looking down at her, and yet she looked back at him with a matching look. His face faltered a bit, seemingly shocked, as if he was incapable of thinking she could have an anger like his.

"You just don't-" she faltered, stumbling on all the words running through her head, all the statements she wanted to shout. But instead, her voice was cold, and calm. "You just _never_ understood."

His eyes held a dark warning, but she didn't care. What could he possibly do to her that he hadn't once done. Even if he chose to kill her; she was too exhausted to worry about it.

"You never understood. My father discovered us and he would have _killed you_ , threatened to have it be slow and cruel and have me watch. I didn't tell you that, because I couldn't bear it, and yet somehow, _somehow_ you expected me to just let it happen. You didn't understand. You didn't even care to _try_ to understand."

A huff of air escaped her lips again as she stood, needing to move and pace and quite possibly hit something. Her demeanor was usually so poised and calm; she'd had thousands of years to master a stoic and demure persona. It was Zeldris: he had always known how to shatter the shell she had worked so hard to compose, leaving her feeling exposed.

After a few moments of pacing, she turned to look at him again. His eyes were following her, arm still folded too tightly. What was he thinking? Why could she never figure him out as she had wanted to? His mind was nothing but an enigma to her. Their entire time together had been her trying to salvage his signs of affection, to try to figure him out based on the few times he had let his walls down. The man who had both held her moments ago and reassured her that he had looked for her, the same man who had left her behind in the first place.

"They would have killed us, you say?" Her soft tone didn't shake, much to her relief, "fine. I would have accepted that. I'd rather have had a single day in a world that you had taken me with you, than the thousands of years I had locked away in that place."

He stopped meeting her eyes then, but the fiery anger had subsided, replaced with something much more tired. "I had a war to win, Gelda."

"I could've been of use to you. You know I could have. I'm not as strong as you or the other higher demons but I… I could of _at least_ -"

"What you would have been," he interrupted, "is a liability."

If she didn't have such feelings for him, she would have lit him aflame. Every cell of her body begged her to. "I'm not as weak as you think."

"That's not what I was implying."

"Then what _are_ you implying? Why can't you just let me in, Zeldris. Tell me what you are thinking. None of it ever makes any sense to me. If you were to leave me all those years ago, how come you didn't let me go? I thought you let me go."

"I don't know," his low voice responded, the muscles of his jaw clenching.

Her fist clenched and unclenched, her entire body trembling. "Just tell me how you feel! For _once_ just be honest to me and tell me-"

"I don't KNOW!" he turned to her, all of the anger unleashed, his voice a roar, "What do you want to hear, Gelda! If I could have left your _damned_ castle and never had a single thought about you for the rest of my life, I would have been _thrilled!_ You ruined my focus! Everything about you was a distraction to me. And it made no _god damn sense!_ _That_ is why you were a liability."

He took a step towards her as she took a step back and continued on his rant, "I was supposed to be getting information about your clan and their subsequent betrayal; not thinking up ways to get us both out of there without Meliodas destroying us."

He had wanted to take her. As the idea slowly dawned on her, it didn't bring the elation and joy she had imagined it would. In the years after Zeldris had left, she had convinced herself to believe the most realistic story; that all of their time together had made him care in some small way, that it had made him show pity on her in the last moments. But he hadn't wanted to leave her behind; he had _wanted_ to take her with him. And in her mind, that only made it worse.

Realization washed over her like a wave, and she looked at him and could only say the complete truth: "You're a coward."

He stumbled, his face which was usually a mask so composed and indifferent crumbling. She heard the sharp intake of his breath, as if she had struck a blow. A tremble ran through his body, his eyes wide. For once, the emotions were clear on his face, and her eyes watched each one. Absolute shock and a flicker of what she could only guess was chagrin, melting away to what she could only assume would be the worst wrath she would witness from him.

"A coward…" his voice repeated, almost as if the words were foreign to him, something she had said that he couldn't quite understand.

"Yes," she quickly replied, unafraid, a confidence in her she hadn't felt in, perhaps, her entire existence, "a coward, I'm sure of it."

His entire body was frozen, his only movement a single blink. Though she knew she may pay dearly for it later, may even sever the only affection he'd ever had for her, she knew if she didn't say the truth now it would haunt her forever.

"You didn't leave me behind because you thought I'd get in your way, or didn't care enough for me to bring me with you," she continued, "you left me behind because you feared your brother. You feared he was stronger than you; he may have even _been_ stronger than you. He gave you an order and you were too much of a coward to go against it. If it wasn't for your fear, your cowardice, you never would have left me in that seal.

"And if you weren't a coward, you would have killed me as you should have. You were too afraid to go against your brother's orders and take me, and too afraid to kill me yourself. Did you fear you would regret it afterwards? Or did you hope that one day Meliodas would die, and you could finally come back and take me without confronting him? You locked me away for thousands of years because you refused to take action. Because you were an indifferent coward who hoped that the situation would resolve itself."

Gelda paused and looked over at Zeldris. She had gotten lost in her thoughts, lost in her own words, but then her hand went to clench her throat when she saw the malice that was plain on his face. Her heart thudded at the look in his eye, but she knew, deep down, that she was right.

"Zeldris," she warned as he stepped towards her, trying to sound assertive. "Don't-"

This was not the gentle, protective Zeldris since her return, or the teasing, cocky Zeldris from so many years ago. "Do you understand what happens to anyone who _dares_ to call me a coward?" His voice is low, and a chill goes up her spine.

No, this is not the Zeldris who had shown her rare affection over the years. She knows _this_ is the Zeldris that everyone else experienced: heartless, savage, a soldier without any remorse. A Zeldris she had only gotten a glimpse of in the past.


End file.
